Volunteering in Gulfport, MS

I got back from Gulfport, MS, at 4:30 Tuesday morning, after having spent the last three days volunteering in a shelter there. I had gotten an email on Friday morning about an opportunity for four students to go down and help at a shelter. I called the number, and three hours later we left.

We didn't start seeing any direct signs of Katrina until after we made it through Jackson. The indirect signs were the gas lines. Most gas stations south of Jackson on HW 49 had long lines, and the state had requested most stations to ration gas. We ended up in a line about an eighth of a mile from the station, but I followed a hunch and approached the man directing traffic into the station. I showed him our documentation given to us by the church we were coordinating with, and he directed us to the front of the line and let us fill up (the current ration was $20 worth of gas).

From the road we saw clear signs of Katrina: road signs bent clear over, trees snapped in half, debris on the side of the road, billboards uprooted, lots of roofs sans shingles. It wasn't until we got to the coast that we saw some of the most incredible destruction I've ever laid eyes on.



We drove through one neighborhood just a short distance from the coast. Homes were completely destroyed. Sometimes a foundation was all that was left, other times just a pile of rubble. We saw one clean foundation, and about 30 yards down the road we saw the house where it had been dropped, Dorothy-style, into another yard and in collision with a tree. One beautiful home on a small point out into the bay was on stilts; the top half of the roof was okay, but the rest of the house was gutted, leaving only the basic structure intact. Here's another destroyed home.



When we got to Gulfport, a curfew was in effect--6pm to 6am. We found the Church of God in Christ, the home base for the shelter operation coordinated by Christ in Action out of Virginia, and Feed the Children. FTC had seven 18-wheelers chock full of relief supplies waiting to be unloaded for lack of volunteers. The plan down there (which is still being implemented) is to unload a truck's contents onto a small parking lot half a block down from the church and organize it into basic sections--snack foods, canned goods, health and beauty, animal food, baby needs, drinks, clothes. We created an isle and worked all the supplies around it. At the designated time--either 10am or 4pm--we'd allow the hordes of local citizens access through the line. Carrying boxes or garbage sacks, they proceeded down the line as relief workers manned their stations and gave out items. I don't think I've ever seen so many snack crackers in my entire life!



The neighborhood we served was predominantly black and low-income. The area was trashed and run-down even before Katrina hit. These people had little to nothing, and now they have even less. There is no power, and the tap water--which is working--is dangerous now because a few days ago a truck overturned and spilled 44,000 pounds of chicken all over the beach, resulting in disease-ravaged water. We were told to brush our teeth with bottled water.



I estimate 60% of the people we served were grateful, another 20% were extremely grateful, and another 20% very greedy and hoarding. Not that I necessarily blame them. It's difficult to feel anything but compassion for them. Many were still kind of dazed and numb through the entire process.

We had little moments to smile and lighten things up a little. The first day, as we were organizing all the food before we distributed it, I was goofing around with a local man helping out. First off, let me explain that there is so much food coming off the truck that as we grab something, everyone is yelling to try and find where it goes. This guy yelled "sugar!" right next to me, and I asked incredulously, "What did you call me?" He grinned and we kept working. A few minutes later, he walked up to me with a box of deserts and said, "Hey, HoneyBuns!" And that kicked off a steady stream of calling out ambiguous-sounding food names at each other whenever we found them. It was one of the more happy memories.

I was very impressed at the leadership and humility of those in charge of the in-the-trenches work. As we began working, I could pick out the leaders and figure out whose directions to follow, but what I didn't know until the last day was that all these individuals were from various unrelated areas or organizations. We had a short black lady with Herculean energy and enthusiasm who learned was in the army; she fought in Desert Storm and in Iraq a few months ago. One guy with connections to national relief organizations was from Oklahoma--his pastor had a vision and told this guy to head down to Gulfport. Everyone worked together beautifully; no power struggles or egos bumping. They also let us take charge of something if we saw a need. The four of us from JBU basically oversaw the entire organization effort of the truck's cargo on Saturday into a gymnasium. We had only just arrived the day before, but we took charge of the effort and made the locals who were volunteering work together.

The relief workers were great people as well. Turns out half of northwest Arkansas was in Gulfport that weekend, in separate groups! There were a bunch of students from Ecclesia, a small Bible college. Some frat guys from UofA came down on their own. Four twenty-something employees at a marketing firm in Chicago drove down to help. Some friends of mine from Dallas drove over as well. The unity was tangible and wonderful to be a part of.

Amidst all the signs warning would-be looters, we found a positive one:



more to come as it hits me...